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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22898791">Paparazzi (or: a Friendship)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/EdnaV/pseuds/EdnaV'>EdnaV</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Slow Wedding [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Good Omens (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Background Anthony J. Crowley/Avery Fell, Beez doesn't get enough love, Coming Out, Friendship, Gen, Genderfluid Character, M/M, Missing Scene, and I'm here to give them some, mia_ugly's Slow Show Universe</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-02-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-02-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 12:15:55</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>861</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22898791</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/EdnaV/pseuds/EdnaV</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p><em>Anthony J. Crowley, BAFTA-winning actor and most recent first-page-of-the-Daily-Mail scandal, was grinning.</em><br/><em>“Beez, please: didn’t you want me to ‘rehab my image?’”</em><br/><em>“On the fucking Daily Mail?!”</em><br/>“Achievable goals, <em>Beez. Don’t you remember the good old days?”</em></p><p>If you come out of the closet with the love of your life, you have to tell your agent. Especially if they're your best friend.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Anthony J. Crowley &amp; Beez (Slow Show), Beelzebub &amp; Crowley (Good Omens)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Slow Wedding [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1647445</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>130</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Ixnael’s Recommendations, Slow Show Metaverse</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Paparazzi (or: a Friendship)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lurlur/gifts">Lurlur</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This fic takes place in the <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/20395261">Slow Show AU</a> of Good Omens.</p><p>If you've never read Slow Show (you should, don't let the "explicit" and the AU discourage you), here's what you need to know: formerly-fallen-from-grace Anthony J. Crowley and ostensibly-perfect Avery Fell are co-stars in the TV series Warlock. Avery hid in the closet for all of his life; two nights ago his love for Anthony prompted him to come out — they spent the night at Crowley's, they went out for breakfast, someone's taken a photo, you can guess what happened next. Beez is Anthony's agent.</p><p>For Lurlur, a friend found in a strange place, who tempted me into the Slow Show fandom.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Anthony, please, don’t take it personal, but <em> I hate you.” </em></p><p>Beez was still holding their face in both of their hands.</p><p>Anthony J. Crowley, BAFTA-winning actor and most recent first-page-of-the-Daily-Mail scandal, was grinning. </p><p>“Beez, please, take it as a personal gift: didn’t you want me to <em> ‘rehab my image?’” </em></p><p>
  <em> “On the fucking Hate Mail?!” </em>
</p><p><em> “Achievable goals, </em> Beez. Don’t you remember the good old days?”</p><p>The good old days.</p><p>The basement of a church in Catford <em> (they’ll expect you to go to the meetings in Chelsea, St. John’s Wood if you’re slumming). </em> He takes his time to get there <em> (the Tube’s a comfortable cocoon). </em> He arrives early, sets up the chairs <em> (the tea is good, it’s warm). </em> He avoids the others’ gaze, he almost doesn’t speak <em> (I’ve already said too much, not just to that asshole — all my life, I should’ve kept my mouth shut). </em> When the meeting ends, he puts everything back in its place <em> (it’s the least I can do), </em> leaves after everyone else <em> (it’s not like anyone would talk to me). </em> Repeat twice a week <em> (I need to get out). </em> He doesn’t do much else with his life, he doesn’t think, he hasn't got much to look forward to <em> (stay safe, keep your cards close to your chest). </em></p><p>And then, one day, someone new. A mass of black hair, messy but not unkempt. Blue eyes that don’t flinch.</p><p>“Hi, my name is <em> Beatrix...” </em> </p><p>“Hello, Beatrix!”</p><p>“...but I’m thinking of changing it, it’s not exactly <em> me...” </em></p><p>The room stares. Ahem.</p><p>“So, I <em> think </em> that I should stop doing heroin. Questions?”</p><p>At the end of the meeting, Beatrix-but-it’s-not<em> -me- </em>but-I-haven’t-found-a-better-name-yet-and-maybe-I-should-wait-until-I’m-clean-to-choose-one-I’ve-made-enough-bad-choices-when-I-was-high had helped Anthony to tidy the room. </p><p>“Ok, Anthony J. Crowley. You’re in Oyster Zone 3, and South of the river. Poverty tourism, avoiding paparazzi, or both? Where do you keep the tea towels? Just to know where we stand here, no-one’s judging you. Pass that mug.”</p><p>He knew what they were saying. They were saying, <em> you’re not better than me and you know it, that’s why I respect you. </em></p><p>“Love the new hair. Two years ago — was it St. Bart’s?”</p><p>They knew what he was saying. He was saying, <em> I’m not better than you and you know it, that’s why I trust you. </em></p><p>Within a month, the two of them had fallen in love. </p><p>Not in <em> that way, </em> no. But people who call lovers and girlfriends and boyfriends <em> “more than friends” </em> don’t know a thing about friendship. </p><p>He’d been there when they’d changed their legal name. </p><p>
  <em> “Beez, it suits you.”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Of course it does.” </em>
</p><p>They’d joked that he should’ve changed his too. </p><p>
  <em> “Your surname’s harder to shake than heroin, Crowley.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “You could call me Tony.”  </em>
</p><p><em> “I wouldn’t call </em> my cat <em> Tony.”  </em></p><p>
  <em> “You don’t have a cat.”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Precisely.” </em>
</p><p>He’d taken them shopping.</p><p><em> “Trust this old fairy, Beez. You look </em>gorgeous.”</p><p>
  <em> “Isn’t it a bit too much?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “I was about to suggest you to add a fake military decoration to the tailcoat.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Not funny.” </em>
</p><p>They’d called him three times every morning.</p><p>
  <em> “Did you wake up?”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Yes, Beez.” </em>
</p><p>And then.</p><p>
  <em> “Are you leaving the house after at least a bit of toast and a cup of coffee?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Yes, Beez.” </em>
</p><p>And then.</p><p>
  <em> “Are you getting inside that fucking building and doing that fucking audition?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “No, Beez.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Wrong answer.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Yes, Beez.” </em>
</p><p>He’d taken them to the parties, introduced them like the Prince of Agents that they were born to be, told them everything about who-was-who. </p><p>
  <em> “Don’t trust Ligur. He’s not worth the contacts on his phone.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Noted. Is that Michael Ange?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “We’re not playing at that level.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Speak for yourself, Crowley.” </em>
</p><p>Beez had been right, once again. They’d managed to sell the fairytale of Anthony J. Crowley’s second chance. (A fairytale indeed: he’d wasted his second chance, just as he’d wasted his third, fourth and fifth chances, and possibly his sixth one too.)</p><p><em> Warlock. </em> Starring Avery Fell and Anthony J. Crowley. The new cult series.</p><p>All the pieces seemed to have fallen in the right place. </p><p>Then everything had fallen apart.</p><p>Then he had managed to patch it up, somehow. For the first time, he hadn’t foundered on the rocks of his bad choices — he had rebuilt himself, a brighter star than ever.</p><p>And now Beez was waving the <em> Daily Mail </em> in his face as if they were trying to swat a fly.</p><p>
  <em> FELL’S DOING IT TWICE. Avery Fell and Anthony J Crowley in Soho’s “hottest” corners. Is it #wallslamgate again?  </em>
</p><p>“So, are you going to tell me that you’re so good in bed that you fucked the Angel Incarnate out of the closet, or do I have to find it out from Twitter? Wait, I know the answer, and it’s <em> I have to find it out on the fucking Daily Heil on the second day of a holiday that </em> you <em> told me to take. </em> And, by the way, the photo makes you look like a boa constrictor who’s trying to squeeze a wedding cake.”</p><p>Anthony was grinning, lost in bliss.</p><p>“This time’s for real, Beez.”</p><p>“I hope so, because if he hurts you again <em> I’m going to kill him, </em> and that could be a problem for the show.”</p><p>“I love you, Beez.”</p><p>“Shut up.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you to Lur for being a wonderful beta, and thank you to mia_ugly for creating such a beautiful and deeply human world. </p><p>Also: more chapters might follow...</p></blockquote></div></div>
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